


Best Laid Plans

by popfly



Category: Schitt's Creek (TV) RPF
Genre: Breathplay, M/M, Mild Kink, Yes Italy Again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: Dan and Noah re-visit the farmhouse in Tuscany.
Relationships: Dan Levy/Noah Reid
Comments: 11
Kudos: 57





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [this_is_not_nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_not_nothing/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY TINN! I mushed together two of your leftover OT3 anniversary prompts, because you deserve all the fics you want AND SO MUCH MORE. 
> 
> Thanks to Gray for the encouragement and excellent-as-always beta job, and to Neely for cursing in my doc comments and making me feel _very_ validated.

Noah wonders how many people have stood on this balcony, the Tuscan sun painting the fields and treetops gold, nerves making their stomachs cramp and ring boxes weighing down their pockets. This terrace must have seen hundreds, thousands of proposals; the terracotta has surely bruised many, many kneecaps. He knows that the house, the grounds, have seen plenty of actual weddings, the website practically screamed it at him the first time he pulled it up, when he was still considering if renting the whole damn place for he and Dan’s anniversary was a ridiculous indulgence or exactly right.

“Et voila,” Dan says, breaking into Noah’s anxious thoughts.

“That’s French,” Noah replies. He tries to surreptitiously take his hand out of his pocket, then he wonders why he’s bothering; it’s a totally normal motion, one that doesn’t require sneaking at all—

When he’s confident he can pull his hand free without the box popping out along with it he reaches out—casually—and takes the wine bottle that Dan is brandishing.

“They _did_ have another,” he says, inspecting the label like he knows what the words mean. Even if it was in English he’d have no idea what most of them meant. Despite his “sophisticated palette,” wine is still a mystery to Noah.

He knows one thing. This Sangiovese is excellent. 

Dan also brought out the wine key, which he hands over to Noah to do the honors of popping open their second bottle of the evening. Noah pours a healthy amount into each of their glasses and they clink them together automatically. Dan toasts, “Cent’ anni,” and then wanders off to the railing to drink and presumably admire the view. Noah is rooted to the pavers.

Cent’ anni. A beautiful sentiment, and very appropriate for this moment. Noah reaches down to touch the bulge of the ring box in his pocket. This is the moment he planned for, with the sun setting slowly and a gentle breeze ruffling Dan’s still-damp-from-the-pool hair, but he can’t do it.

Which is ridiculous! Noah is 90 percent certain that Dan is going to say yes. They’re _it_ for each other, no matter what. He’s 70 percent certain that Dan will like the ring, which is about as certain as Noah can be about Dan approving any of Noah’s accessory choices. And he’s 100 percent sure this is what he wants. He wants to be symbolically bound to Dan, legally bound to him; wants to wear a band around the fourth finger on his left hand and know that that means he’s Dan’s _forever_. For all that it might be overly sentimental and outdated, it’s important to Noah.

So why can’t he just take out the damn ring and pop the question?

Dan turns, propping an elbow on the edge of the balcony wall and looking back at Noah. “Why are you all the way over there?” 

Noah doesn’t have a good answer. He crosses over and tucks himself against Dan’s side. They sip wine and watch the sun set. Noah doesn’t take the ring out of his pocket.

✨

Their first full day in Italy dawns bright and breezy, the curtains fluttering around the open window of their bedroom. Noah blinks up at the ceiling, hands folded against his stomach, Dan’s chest still rising and falling slowly and steadily against his biceps. Dan’s breath wafts across Noah’s bare skin, and his sleep-mussed hair tickles Noah’s earlobe. Noah has to pee, and his back is aching for a stretch, but he doesn’t want to disturb the moment—or Dan.

He waits until he absolutely can’t anymore, and then he extricates himself as carefully as he can, sliding towards the edge of the mattress in increments until Dan grumbles and shifts his weight before settling back into the pillows.

The floor is chilly beyond the rug, and Noah flexes his toes against it, reaching his arms up over his head until his spine pops a few times. Then he pads off to the bathroom, debates a shower, decides to wait to see if Dan wants to share.

Thankfully the kitchen is equipped with an American-style coffee maker, so Noah can get coffee brewed. He’s standing in front of the fridge, drinking his first cup and trying to decide what to do about breakfast, when Dan shuffles in from the hallway.

“Morning,” Noah says. He doesn’t move, other than to tilt his head when Dan drops a kiss on Noah’s bare shoulder as he passes en route to the coffee. “Scrambled, fried, omelette?” It’s a standard morning question; Dan likes to have options, and Noah is happy to make whatever he wants.

Dan scrunches his face in thought as he stirs cream into his coffee. “Scrambled with cheese,” he decides, and Noah props open the door of the fridge with his shoulder so he can pull out the eggs with his free hand.

There’s a familiarity to their breakfast routine, even in an unfamiliar kitchen, even as Noah has to open multiple drawers and cabinets to find everything he needs. Dan leans on the counter and watches Noah work, eyes going from sleepily heavy-lidded to brightly awake as he sips his way to the bottom of his mug.

“What’s the plan for today?” Dan asks as he pours his second cup.

“We could drive into Florence, or out to Pisa?” As much as this vacation is about relaxing—and Noah’s ulterior motive, if he can get up the courage to carry out his plans—they want to sightsee as well. Noah knows Dan has his own shopping agenda, as he usually does, and will let Noah choose any number of other activities to make up for dragging him along.

“Let’s do Pisa today, so we can come back early in the afternoon,” Dan says. He scoots along the counter until he’s close enough to drop another kiss to Noah’s shoulder. It lingers, warming Noah’s skin. 

“Why ever would you want to come back early?” Noah asks, as innocently as he can with his blood suddenly thrumming through his veins. He doesn’t look over at Dan, focusing on the eggs so he doesn’t overcook them. He feels the blunt pressure of Dan’s teeth in his shoulder, not biting, just pressing. 

Dan must know he made his intent clear, because he doesn’t answer.

✨

The Piazza dei Miracoli is, of course, swarming with people when they arrive. Noah loves crowds like this, the anonymity of them, the way he can shamelessly ogle the architecture and Dan without anyone really caring. And Dan is definitely worth ogling, his shorts so short they bare the curve of his thigh muscles. He has his shirtsleeves rolled at the biceps, so every time he lifts his hand to shade his eyes, he flashes the pale, tender skin of his underarm, the dark tuft of hair there that Noah wants to press his whole face to.

“You’re supposed to be marveling at the wonder of the Leaning Tower,” Dan says, when he catches Noah staring, but his pleased smirk tells Noah he’s enjoying being the subject of Noah’s marveling.

They wander the perimeter of the Tower and the Cathedral, and Noah reads facts out of the brochure he’d grabbed from the farmhouse before they left. They forego the line to enter the museum and cross the grass to the Cemetery instead, wanting to soak up as much warm early afternoon sunshine as they can. When Dan’s stomach rumbles, Noah laughs and leads them back to their little rental car, letting his maps app guide them to a carpark near the end of the Borgo Stretto.

Dan chooses a cafe almost immediately, tucked in the corner of a beautiful stone building, facing the river. They sit at a small table with a bright umbrella over it, and share a platter of meat and cheese and bread, then sprawl out in their wrought iron chairs to sip amaro and watch the people stream by.

The combination of the sun, the alcohol, and the meal make Noah sleepy, but Dan’s shopping agenda energy kicks in as soon as the bill is paid, so Noah follows him up the street. They duck in and out of boutiques, and Noah indulges in more Dan-watching; there’s something about Dan assessing clothing that makes Noah happy in his core, the way Dan touches the sleeves of sweaters, thumbs the buttons on shirts, and debates with himself the merits of each piece.

At the end of the street they turn and make their way back, strolling leisurely over the bricks of the sidewalk, skirting tables covered in red cloths. Dan keeps hold of Noah’s hand, and the steady brush of the insides of their wrists is enough to make Noah want to push Dan into one of the shadowy alcoves between buildings. Instead, he quickens his pace, eager to get back to the car and on the road. There’s still an hour-long drive between them and the farmhouse, and the big, soft bed that Noah plans on shoving Dan onto as soon as he possibly can.

✨

That eagerness morphs to out-and-out desperation by the time Noah parks on the gravel drive of the Belvedere. Dan had spent the entire hour between Pisa and the farmhouse with his hand on Noah’s thigh, fingers creeping up the inseam of Noah’s shorts. Driving a manual transmission along unfamiliar country roads was difficult enough without the distraction of that teasing touch.

“You’re gonna get it,” Noah says, as soon as the engine is off. Dan’s answering smirk is an unspoken challenge.

They don’t chase each other through the house, but it’s a close thing, Dan leading the way to the bedroom at a brisk pace with Noah crowding against his back. They’re both laughing breathlessly by the time they turn from the hallway to cross the threshold, Noah trying ineffectually to reach around Dan and get his shirt unbuttoned, or his pants unbuttoned; basically clothes need to be off. Dan slows before he hits the bed, and it’s enough for Noah to get his arms all the way around Dan’s waist, hauling him backwards.

“Let me just,” Noah says, panting a little already, and not just from exertion. He gets one hand up Dan’s shirt, palm flattening the hair under Dan’s navel, the other working on the buttons from the top. It’s clumsy and slow, and his attention is diverted by the way Dan’s stomach muscles tremble under Noah’s fingers. Noah opens his mouth against the side of Dan’s neck, not kissing, just tasting where he’s still sweat-damp, slightly salty against Noah’s tongue.

The noise Dan makes is half-sigh, half-groan, and he tips his head back until it’s resting on Noah’s shoulder. He still has his sunglasses on. He’s got both hands behind him, flat to the front of Noah’s thighs, and his fingers flex as Noah drags his mouth along Dan’s neck.

Eventually, Noah gets Dan’s shirt unbuttoned, and then he can move onto the shorts. Those he takes on with both hands, getting them open and then shoving them down, hooking his thumb into the waistband of Dan’s underwear to get them out of the way, too. Dan shimmies against Noah to help get both garments off, and the way it bumps his ass back against Noah, where his erection is trapped by his shorts, makes Noah hiss.

Dan isn’t totally naked yet, but he’s bare enough that Noah can skim one hand from the base of his dick to the base of his throat without impediment, even if he is tempted to linger on Dan’s chest hair or detour to one of Dan’s nipples. With his fingers spread wide, he can feel Dan swallow heavily as Noah’s other hand circles Dan’s cock. Noah’s not gripping his neck tightly enough—yet—to feel the way Dan’s breath shudders out, but he can hear it.

“That feel good?” Noah asks, adding just enough pressure with his thumb on the upstroke to make Dan’s hips jerk. Noah leans his own hips into it, trying to dull the ache of his own erection with a brief bit of friction.

Dan nods. Out of the corner of Noah’s eye, he can see how Dan’s sunglasses are slipping down his nose. He can’t believe Dan is still wearing them. Noah would remove them for Dan, but his hands are busy. Dan’s hands are still clutching Noah’s thighs. His shirt is starting to slip off one shoulder, and Noah nudges it with his chin until enough of Dan’s skin is available for Noah’s mouth.

From this position, Noah can just see the tip of Dan’s dick as it slips through his fist. It’s flushed dark and shiny with precome; it makes Noah’s mouth water. He pauses in his stroking to get one of his fingers wet, then runs it around the crown of Dan’s cock. There’s a spot just underneath that makes Dan’s whole body jolt, and Noah rubs over it a few times, holding Dan upright by the throat.

“God, Noah,” Dan says, voice tight through his slightly restricted windpipe. Noah squeezes the hand around Dan’s neck once and then relaxes it, and Dan sucks in a quick breath.

“Can’t believe you still have your sunglasses on,” Noah says, and Dan’s laugh is raw, broken by a moan when Noah reaches lower to stroke over his balls.

“Didn’t exactly—” he bites off the rest of his sentence and whines behind his teeth as Noah wraps his hand around Dan’s cock and strokes up hard. He keeps the tip in his palm and works it back and forth a few times, tightening his hand around Dan’s neck again. When he feels Dan’s fingernails in his thighs he eases up, and Dan breathes harshly before finishing his sentence, “give me a chance.”

Noah’s got his mouth latched onto Dan’s shoulder, sucking gently, and he doesn’t want to lift up to respond. Instead, he rocks his head back and forth, equivocating, and then squeezes Dan’s neck again.

There’s a moment, when Dan’s hips are working in tight, jerky circles and he’s clawing at Noah’s thighs hard enough to bruise, that Noah debates stopping and getting them both naked and into bed. This isn’t exactly the romantic vacation lovemaking he’d been envisioning as they strolled the streets of Pisa. But then Dan gives a shivery whimper, and Noah can’t bring himself to stop. He hooks his chin over Dan’s shoulder and adds a squeeze to the end of his upstroke, and Dan is done.

Noah is so focused on the way Dan shakes, on the noises he’s making and the heat of him pulsing over Noah’s knuckles, that he doesn’t notice Dan’s sunglasses are sliding all the way off until he hears the clatter on the tile floor. 

“Ah,” Dan gasps, and one of his hands unclenches from Noah’s thigh, jerking out sideways like he’s going to reach for them. Noah strokes his come-slick hand down Dan’s softening cock, and the shudder that elicits aborts Dan’s movement. He lifts that hand instead, fingers fumbling over the arm Noah has around Dan’s chest until they’re slotted more or less with Noah’s, resting in the hollow between his collarbones.

There’s a purplish-red spot blooming on Dan’s shoulder, and Noah admires it before pressing a kiss there. Dan unclenches his other hand and brings it up to curl over Noah’s head. He pats it a few times, and Noah can’t help a soft chuckle at the distracted gratitude of the gesture.

“Gee, thanks,” he says, unable to help the snark either. Dan shakes in an exaggerated shiver, finally dislodging the hand that Noah still had on Dan’s dick.

“I’ll be able to thank you properly in just,” Dan pauses to wiggle through an aftershock, “a second. Fuck. That was incredible.”

“Happy to be of service.” Noah spreads his sticky palm against Dan’s lower stomach, holding him in place so Noah can rut against him. He’s so on edge, from the walk and the drive and watching Dan come apart at Noah’s hands, that he might be able to come just like this. It’s rare for basically dry humping to get him this far, but he’s worked up enough that if he could just … shift himself enough …

“Don’t, don’t,” Dan says, and tries to untangle them and turn around on legs that look alarmingly—if gratifyingly—wobbly. “I want.”

They work together to get Noah’s shorts open, and Dan twists his wrist so he can slide his hand under the waistband of Noah’s underwear. It’s an awkward angle, but Dan makes a tight fist and uses his other hand on Noah’s ass to urge Noah’s hips into a quick pace. They’re able to kiss like this too, though Dan is still slightly out of it from his orgasm and Noah is slightly out of it from his _impending_ orgasm, so they mostly just pant into each other’s mouths. Dan slips his tongue against the inside of Noah’s upper lip, and it’s that touch, the jolt it sends down through his core, that sends him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he groans, long and loud. Dan holds Noah’s cock up against his stomach, rubbing the head with the heel of his hand, as Noah comes. It makes the pleasure sharper, hotter, as it crashes through him. He grasps at the open edges of Dan’s shirt, hauling him closer, mouth sliding over his stubbled cheek. “Fuck,” he says again, right into Dan’s ear.

He blinks his eyes open, and the first thing he sees is the big, soft bed. The bed he’d been planning on shoving Dan onto. He laughs, a shaky rasp of noise, and Dan pets softly at the small of Noah’s back.

“What?” he asks, and Noah just shakes his head. He pulls back so he can give Dan a proper kiss, mouths fitting together perfectly, just a hint of tongue and a nip of teeth.

Maybe Noah should just give up on making plans. Spontaneity has been working in his favour, so far.

✨

He thinks about that as they do get into bed, exhausted from their morning walking in the sun and the sex, hastily cleaned up and finally fully naked. He thinks about that as they wake up, with the room full of golden evening sunlight and their stomachs rumbling.

He thinks about it as they cook dinner in the big kitchen, boiling fresh pasta from the market in town, a pot of sauce simmering on the stove. Dan shaves Parmesan while Noah slices bread to slather in butter and garlic, and they both find excuses to touch each other as much as possible.

He thinks about it as Dan pushes the block of cheese against the grater and then jumps back with a yelp, his hand going to his mouth. He sucks on his knuckle, and Noah drops his knife and goes straight for him.

“Ow, shit,” Dan says, pulling his hand back to look at it. There’s blood welling up on his ring finger, where he must have hit it against the grater.

Noah should grab a paper towel and help him stop the bleeding. Instead, he puts his fingers around Dan’s wrist and says, “Marry me.”

Dan blinks. His mouth is still open; there’s a red smear on his lip from his knuckle. Noah panics. Why did his brain choose this moment, that phrasing—he doesn’t even have the ring! It’s in the bedroom, still in the pocket of his shorts from yesterday! Dan is bleeding, for fuck’s sake, and Noah’s brain picks _this moment_?!

“Yes,” Dan says, and the simple syllable stops Noah’s spiral in its tracks. Dan is smiling, a giant, cheek-creasing smile, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses. He laughs, and Noah echoes it without thinking. “Oh my god, yes.”

Then they’re kissing. Dan has his hands, even his bloody one, in Noah’s hair, and Noah is clinging to Dan’s waist like a life preserver. Dan keeps laughing against Noah’s mouth, the feel of his happiness like shots of pure oxygen, making Noah’s chest feel light and his head buzz.

“Your finger,” Noah says when he’s finally able to pull himself away.

“Fuck it,” Dan says, and dives back in for another kiss. Then the sauce on the stove bubbles and pops, startling them apart.

“Bad timing,” Noah says, going to turn the flame down. “I had a whole plan, it was going to be so romantic.” Noah turns to Dan, who finally grabbed a paper napkin to hold to his bloody knuckle. “I was going to do the whole one-knee, open-the-ring-box thing on the balcony at sunset, but.” He gestures at his own head. “I don’t know why it just popped out.”

“There’s a ring box?” Dan asks, voice high and wavering. He has his hands clutched to his chest, a small red dot spreading on the white paper napkin. Noah rubs his own hand over the back of his head.

“Uh, yeah, I bought a ring. It’s—I can go get it?”

Dan nods, curls bobbing over his forehead. Noah turns on his heel and strides towards the bedroom.

When he comes back into the kitchen Dan is washing the cheese grater, and his knuckle appears to have stopped bleeding. Noah had spent an extra minute rummaging in the bathroom for a Band-Aid, which he holds out to Dan first.

“Interesting ring,” Dan says, smirk tucked into his cheek. He unwraps it, and as he’s sticking it to his knuckle Noah goes down onto one knee. The smirk slips off Dan’s face, replaced with an open-mouthed look of awe that makes a lump form in Noah’s throat.

Dan already said yes, but Noah still feels weak with nerves when he brings the ring box out from behind his back and cracks it open. He should say something, an excerpt from one of the many speeches he prepared, or even just the traditional question, but before he can draw a full breath Dan says, “Yes.” Again. And lets his smile spread wide and unchecked.

“So much for my plan,” Noah says, getting to his feet. Dan holds out his hand, palm down, and lets Noah slip the band onto his bandaged finger. The single diamond embedded in it glitters in the light.

“I’m sure your plan was great,” Dan says, tilting his hand back and forth and admiring the ring. He clearly likes it, which is a huge relief. “But this was perfect.”

Noah’s smile feels just as huge as Dan’s looks, and he reaches out to pull Dan in, see how good it feels. Dan puts his hand on Noah’s face, and Noah can feel the cool metal of the ring against his flushed skin.

It does feel perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> I Googled men's engagement rings and [this](https://www.brilliantearth.com/Apollo-Diamond-Wedding-Ring-White-Gold-BE2415D/) is the one I picked for Dan. IT'S CALLED APOLLO LIKE NOAH'S SONG I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF.


End file.
